


Cracktrailer - In Footsteps

by trishabooms



Series: Cracktrailer [1]
Category: Angel: the Series, RPS, Romper Stomper
Genre: Cracktrailer, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-07-17
Updated: 2004-07-17
Packaged: 2017-10-18 09:44:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,185
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/187574
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trishabooms/pseuds/trishabooms





	Cracktrailer - In Footsteps

Beta by the incredible Darcy

  
The Benson girl had a fat ass, fat and pale, well ‘cept for the bright pink marks in the shape of his hand. Little bitch had been weeping and wailing ‘bout how he was hurtin’ her, so he’d given her something to cry about. She was lucky he hadn’t fucked her ass. Maybe next time, she’d be back soon enough.

“Get dressed and get out,” he told her, moving off the bed and hunting around for his jeans. He found the flowered tent she’d been wearing instead, flung it at her when he spotted his pants underneath.

He was pulling on a clean T-shirt when she appeared beside him, fuckin’ awful dress back on, hands twitching as she tried to smooth her hair, big eyes all red from cryin’.

“You still here?”

“P… please Russ, I need…” She frowned, shakin’ her head, folding her trembling arms over those big sow tits of hers, eyes coming slowly up to meet his. “I thought…”

“I don’t do freebies, you want what I can give you then you bring me the fuckin’ money. You wanted charity, you got a fuck, anything else you pay for, we clear?”

“But Russ, p... please!”

His hand shot out, fast as a striking snake, wrapping around her neck and slamming her back into the cabin wall. He brought his face up real close then squeezed, watching her struggle to pull in enough air. “Ast you a question, I said are we clear.”

She frantically tried to nod.

He held her there a moment longer, enjoying the surge of panic in her eyes, before reluctantly letting her go.

Soon as she could draw in enough breath she was out of the cabin, into her daddy’s truck, and gone, leaving him with a boner in his pants that needed taking care of.

“Fuckin’ women.”

~~~~~~~~~~

There was a crash, followed by a bellowed “Fuck!” and Jimmy was forced to stop again. He refused to turn around, the sight of Dave fallin’ on his ass had stopped being funny about two miles back, instead he threw back his head and let out a sigh of frustration.

“You sure we’re goin’ the right way?” Dave asked him. “I mean, how the hell can anybody live out here?”

“I told you, Russ likes his privacy.”

“Yeah well there’s privacy, then there’s fucking crazy. I should never have let you drag me along.”

That made Jimmy turn. “I never asked you to fuckin’ come!” he snapped.

“Yeah well…” Dave got to his feet, brushing mud, grass and leaves off the seat of his pants. “I figured you maybe needed someone along. I mean if just half the stories about this guy are true…”

Dave started forward, unsure of his footing, and Jimmy sighed again at the fancy, slick-soled boots his friend had on.

“I even heard he made deputy Kane piss his pants, you think that’s true?”

Jimmy nodded, “My Daddy reckons you mess with Russ then you gotta be ready to go all the way. Why you think the sheriff stays clear?” Truth was Jimmy didn’t mind Russ, he was his own man, didn’t take shit off no one. He could respect that. He liked his place too, liked the quiet isolation; a man could do his thinking out here.

“So why are we here, wherever the hell here is?”

“I’m here ‘‘cause Russ and my old man do bidness now and then.” It occurred to him that Dave was here for him, that he saw this as dangerous and what… wanted to protect him? Jimmy could take care of himself. Still, maybe Dave deserved something more than what he was giving him, maybe… He met the nervous brown eyes, “This is no big deal okay? Now let’s get a move on, I don’t wanna have to find my way back after dark.”

~~~~~~~~~~

Dave didn’t want to piss Jimmy off, and that was the truth, so he kept quiet for the rest of the journey. He did his best not to be so damn flutter-footed, though that weren’t exactly easy, his new boots might be hand-tooled, Italian fucking leather, but they were rubbing his feet raw, and he’d turned his ankle a while back ‘cause the dumbass things were as slippery as duck shit. He thought there’d be a way to drive in to Russ’ place, knew for a fact there was a way in from the Dale County side, but only with an off-roader.

Maybe he was a dumb fuck for taggin’ along, he wasn’t exactly invited, but he didn’t like the idea of Jimmy coming here alone so he’d pretty much invited himself. Jimmy knew the guy, and it wasn’t like he couldn’t handle himself, it’s just that Russ was one hell of a crazy bastard, even by this town’s standards. Truth was, the guy scared Dave shitless, he’d barely ever said more than two words to him, but there was more than one time he’d got that feeling, like he was caught in someone’s crosshairs, and he’d turn and see Russ right there, those burning blue eyes, that Dave never could meet, fixed on him. Just the thought of those scary goddamn eyes was giving him a cold shiver down his spine.

“You boys lost?”

The deep, rumbling voice right behind him made Dave’s skin about jump off his bones. He turned, knowing just who it was, and found himself face to face with the twin barrels of a sawed-off.

Dave might not have been able to meet Russ’ cold-fire eyes, but he couldn’t look away from the shotgun’s deadly stare.

“Hey Russ,” Jimmy’s voice, calm and cool, came from beside him, and the muzzle of the twin barrels lowered slightly.

“Jimmy, that you son?”

Dave let out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding as Russ broke the shotgun’s breech over his arm.

“For a minute I took you for two city boys, must be them fancy boots the quarterback’s wearing.”

~~~~~~~~~~~

There were a couple of battered car seats on the cabin’s front porch, and Dave sank down on one of them soon as he was invited. Jimmy took a seat on the floor, shoulder resting against Dave’s legs, and lit them both a cigarette while Russ went inside.

Dave was hot, he was tired, his ankle throbbed, his feet hurt like fuck, and he wished to hell he was someplace else right now, anywhere but here. Even the feel of Jimmy, sitting close and still, didn’t give him the buzz it usually did.

The creak of the cabin door opening signalled Russell’s return and set his nerves to jangling. Russ had taken off the jacket he’d been wearing to reveal a clean but threadbare t-shirt beneath, and was drinking a coke. He handed ice cold bottles to each of them.

“So who sent you,” he asked them, “Vig, ol’ Bob, or are you boys lookin’ to do some bidness of your own?”

Dave looked up, found those hooded eyes on him and blanched more than a little, but he still managed to get his question out. “You know my old man?”

Russ ran a hand over hair shorn even closer than Jimmy’s, and let a smile quirk up the corners of his mouth. “Me and your Daddy do a lot of bidness.” He tipped his head back to take a long swallow of his coke and Dave saw a tattoo across his throat he had never noticed before, a word made virtually invisible under days of heavy stubble. The guy had no shortage of tats, his hands and arms were covered in them; a swastika and all kinds of shit on his right hand and arm, and a huge black bone tattoo on the left that started at his knuckles and worked its way up his arm, disappearing beneath the sleeve of his t-shirt to emerge again at the neck as a long black spike behind his ear.

“Who you think does your old man’s repo work, makes sure folks pay what they owe?”

“I didn’t know,” Dave confessed.

“Didn’t think you would somehow.” His smile touched the full lips a little more. “So I’m guessing Vig’s lookin’ to get closer to God, huh?”

“I reckon,” Jimmy reached into the pocket of his jeans and pulled out a fat envelope, handing it to Russ.

“You didn’t open it?” The man raised a surprised brow.

“No sir.”

“Smart move, and deservin’ of a proper reward, but first we better take care of the quarterback,” he announced, chugging down the rest of his coke. “You need to take those boots off, boy.”

~~~~~~~~~~

Russ couldn’t help but crack a smile at the expression on the boy’s face, you’d a thought he’d asked him to cut off his own feet.

“What if his feet swell so he can’t get ‘em back on?” Jimmy asked.

“Well it ain’t like he’s gonna be able to walk outta here anyways, by the looks of him. I can run you both back into town. C’mon boy, let’s take a look at the damage.”

The boy reluctantly pulled his boots off, struggling with the left one till Jimmy gave him a hand. Beneath the brightly coloured, mismatched socks he was wearing both feet were badly blistered, and the left ankle was swelling.

“Shit,” Jimmy shook his head, “no wonder you kept fallin’ on your ass. Think maybe we should pop them blisters?”

“No, leave ‘em be. That ankle needs icin’ though, be right back.” He returned with a bag of ice and a jar of pale liquid, and crouched down in front of the still nervous kid, handing him the jar. “Take a few sips while I take a look at that ankle, just sips mind, it’s kinda fierce at first.”

The boy’s dark eyes widened and he looked up, making tentative eye contact for the first time. “Moonshine?”

Russ nodded. “Been a still here for eighty years or more, according to my granddaddy. The old bastard used to make me help him when I was a kid, showed me how to make the stuff. Damn thing’s pretty much like a woman, more trouble than it’s fuckin’ worth mostly, but it’ll ease what ails you, guaranteed. Try it.”

He took the challenge, tried to swallow down a mouthful, and nearly choked.

Vig’s boy chuckled. “He said to sip it, dumbass.”

“Jus’ take a little,” Russ told him, “starts off like fire, ends up like momma’s milk.”

He watched the tip of the boy’s tongue sneak out to moisten first his top and then his bottom lips, an unconscious gesture that must have all the little cheerleaders creaming their panties, then the boy locked eyes with him and took a sip from the jar.

He gasped a little then grinned, “Fuck me, that’s fearsome!”

“Take a few more sips then pass it to Jimmy, let me look at this ankle.” Russ rolled up the leg of the boys’ jeans a way, then took his foot into hands still cool from carrying the ice and felt him jump. “You gotta name, quarterback?”

“Dave.”

Russ took a feel of the boy’s ankle. “Can you move your toes?”

“Think so.” He wiggled them.

He turned the foot a little and saw the flash of pain widen the dark eyes a moment before he winced and tried to pull the foot away.

“Don’t seem too bad,” Russ told him, laying the cold bag across his foot. “Icin’ it up should ease it some. Jimmy, bring that empty keg over here so he got something to rest his foot on.”

~~~~~~~

The afternoon turned hot and Jimmy felt lazy. The three of them emptied the jar, then Russ had declared it too hot for serious drinkin’, so he’d brought out some weed and they’d gone back to sodas.

Dave had finally relaxed around Russ and lay sprawled out on the old car seat, foot still propped on the empty beer keg and wrapped in the dripping, more than half melted, ice bag. His shirt was open, and the long silver necklace he always wore gleamed against his smooth, tanned chest. The Lord, in Jimmy’s opinion, had taken time over Dave, put him together right. No one thing about him was perfect exactly, but when you put them together they just fit real well.

  
He watched him draw in a mouthful of smoke, an’ let it out real slow. Dave had a pretty mouth, talented too, and for some reason Jimmy couldn’t quite understand he was willing, and eager, to let him use and abuse it. The strange thing was that all he could see, when Dave was on his knees with those dark eyes starin’ up at him, was need. That Dave should need anythin’, especially from him, was something Jimmy couldn’t make much sense of, and it was way too hot, and he was way too high, to think it through.

He leaned forward from where he sat with his back resting against the porch rails, and stripped off his t-shirt, considered crawling over to grab the fatty off Dave, but didn’t have the energy.

A touch to his back startled him, and he froze as a hand moved, slowly and lightly over the scars on his back.

“Vig still take his belt to you?” Russ asked him quietly, and Jimmy felt the tension uncurl a little.

“Not so much, took the belt offa him last time he tried. His heart’s not in it ‘less he’s drunk an’ wantin’ to beat the devil outta me, most times I just stay away.”

“My Granddaddy liked to use his fists, his walkin’ cane when he got older, but by that time the ol’ bastard couldn’t catch me so easy.”

“You lived with him?” Dave asked.

“As long as I can remember yeah, can’t recall my folks. The way my granddaddy told it my momma left when I was around three, ran off with a substitute teacher from the school. My daddy went after her, found the two of them in a motel across the state line, and pulled a gun. The cops came and they shot him.”

“What happened to your momma?” Jimmy asked him.

“Dunno for sure. My granddaddy claimed she just left, but I heard other folks say she came back, they reckon she’s buried somewhere out there in the woods.”

Dave nearly choked. “Buried!”

“Reckon my granddaddy killed the bitch.”

“You think he did?” Jimmy asked him.

Russ shrugged, “Maybe.” He uncurled from his spot leaning beside Jimmy, reminding him of one of those big jungle cats he’d seen on the TV, and moved across the floor to pluck the fatty from Dave’s fingers and take a drag. “Vig expectin’ you back?” he asked Jimmy.

“No, he’s gone to see some TV preacher, drug my uncle Ben along with him.”

“I reckon Vig should be on TV hisself, calling down the Lord’s wrath on any poor bastard who don’t make a donation,” he laughed and Jimmy joined in, Vig would scare the shit outta them all right.

“What about you boy,” Russ was askin’ Dave, “does ol’ Bob have you on a curfew?”

“No.”

The flush of colour to Dave’s cheeks made Jimmy wonder if maybe that was a lie, or maybe the fact that Russ had come to kneel between Dave’s splayed legs was makin’ him antsy.

“No, that’s not his style. I reckon he’s got you on some kinda guilt trip, trustin’ you to do the right thing on your honour… m’I right?”

“Pretty much.”

“He finds out you been mixin’ with the likes o’ Jimmy an’ me all bets’ll be off.”

“I do what I like,” Dave told him.

“You can stay then, the two o’ you ‘cuz I reckon I’m way too drunk and way too stoned to be drivin’ you back before mornin’, that okay?”

Dave met the smoky, dark blue eyes of the man that was kneeling in front of him and nodded, “No problem.”

~~~~~~~~

Somewhere in the back of his mind a voice was telling Dave that he and Jimmy should leave, should get as far away from Russ, this cabin, and talk of bodies in the woods, as they possibly could, and never come back. That voice was fading though beneath the power of the man’s smoky blue eyes with their fringe of thick, dark lashes, the lean, powerful body, and the gravel dark purr of the voice that caressed his balls with every word.

Even as the sun set, the heat remained, and the three of them stayed out on the battered porch in an effort to benefit from whatever breeze there might be.

From his eyelids to his aching feet, Dave’s body felt slick with sweat. His shirt stuck to his back, and his jeans clung uncomfortably, sticking to his ass and rubbing against his dick. His dick didn’t need much in the way of encouragement, the sight of Jimmy laid out on the floor was driving him crazy. The top buttons of his friend’s low slung jeans were undone, his chest was bare, and he was smoking a cigarette, his eyes following the course of the lazy smoke rings he was making. In the other hand he held a half full bottle of coke, which he was rubbing slowly over his exposed belly in an effort to cool himself. It sure wasn’t making Dave any cooler.

“You hungry boy?” The molasses rich voice beside his ear, forced him to guiltily tear his eyes away.

“What?”

“Thought the two o’ you might be hungry,” Russ told him, handing him a dish, “wasn’t expecting much in the way of visitors, but I can run to biscuits an’ gravy.”

Dave took the dish as Jimmy put out his cigarette and sat up eagerly to take the one Russ was holding out to him. “You sure?”

“Wouldn’t offer otherwise.”

Jimmy dug in, and Russ slipped back inside to return with a dish of his own. He took a seat beside Dave. “Tuck in.”

Dave gave him a smile and nod before dipping a spoon gingerly into the dish and moving it around half heartedly. Dave had never had biscuits and gravy in his life, it was a joke at his house, something his Dad would mention wanting, just to get his Mom all riled up. He took a hesitant taste and then hastily tried to look like he was enjoying it as much as Jimmy clearly was, the last thing he wanted to do was offend Russ.

“Don’t have to eat it if you don’t want to,” Russ’ voice was barely a whisper beside his ear, then came louder as a hand reached out to squeeze his shoulder. “Your stomach feelin’ bad, boy?”

“I err…”

“Don’t force it if it is, could be the heat, then again could be the moonshine,” he gave Dave a look that said he understood before taking the dish from his hand. “You eat s’more Jimmy?”

His friend looked up. “You sure you don’t want it?”

Dave shook his head, giving what he hoped was a disappointed grimace as he rubbed a hand over his belly, and saw Jimmy set upon it with the same appreciation he would give to a prime steak. He looked away, wishing he were stoned enough not to think so hard on what that meant, and desperate that Jimmy wouldn’t see.

He glanced at Russ, saw that gaze focused in on him once more, but it was a look that seemed to say that he understood.

~~~~~~~~

They had moved inside the cabin eventually, sprawling over Russ’ rag-tag collection of battered furniture, none of which would ever be featurin’ in one of those fancy home magazines, but it was comfortable enough.

Jimmy was about as relaxed as Russ had ever seen him, but the quarterback had turned skittish again, doubt joining the want in his eyes whenever he stole so much as a glance at the Preacher’s son.

“So, High School treatin’ you boys right?” Russ asked as he rolled the three of them another fatty. “I hear they got themselves another principal, third in two years right?”

Jimmy nodded. “They don’t stick around too long. Way Vig tells it there’s a warrant out on the last one, he reckons Miss Stone walked in ‘an found him fuckin’ the youngest of them Landau girls.”

“Ain’t she simple?” Russ asked.

Dave nodded. “She hears voices and all kinds of shit like that, there’s a word for it…”

“Schizophrenic,” Jimmy told them, “seein’ people who ain’t there, talkin’ to ‘em an’ such, that’s what they call it.”

“How come they don’t give Miss Stone the job?” the quarterback wondered out loud. “I mean, she’s been Vice Principal long enough.”

“Cuz they reckon she’s a lesbian.”

Russ laughed out loud. “Who the fuck told you that?”

“Everyone says so,” Jimmy told him quietly, “you know what it’s like.”

Too fuckin’ true he did. “And that’s why I jus’ love this fuckin’ town,” Russ sighed and lit the fatty taking a long slow pull. “Take my advice, you ever get the chance to get out of this shit-hole for good, take it, go, and don’t ever fuckin’ look back.” He took another drag before handing it over to Jimmy.

“Did you leave?” the quarterback asked him.

He nodded.

“Why’d you come back?”

He turned and looked deep into the boy’s dark eyes. “Cuz I thought…” he shook his head, “I thought I had all the answers back then, that I could change things, have what I wanted jus’ cuz I wanted it. That don’t happen most of the time, you gotta grab what you can and take it, ‘less you’re willin’ to share. You know what you want, quarterback?”

The boy’s eyes slipped to Jimmy, then back up at Russ, their movement quick, nervous.

“I err…”

“I reckon you do.” Russ smiled, never taking his eyes off the nervous brown ones. “You gonna give him what he wants Jimmy?”

The Preacher’s son uncurled from the overstuffed armchair opposite the couch Russ shared with the boy, came to crouch between the quarterback’s knees. He took another pull on the fatty then dipped his head to one side, ice blue eyes locked on his friend.

“The Bible’s all for sharin’ the good Lord’s bounty,” he told them, reaching out to stroke a hand over the silky looking flesh of Dave’s stomach.

Russ laughed, “You reckon bounty here wants to be shared?”

“Do you?” Jimmy asked, long fingers skimming over the tanned abs.

The reply was a silent nod into the ice blue eyes.

Russ leaned in close and caught the quarterback’s chin in his hand, turned his face away from Jimmy’s, to meet the dark brown eyes with his own. “You need to be sure that’s what you want, there ain’t no shame in sayin’ no.”

The adam’s apple bobbed, and he saw a shiver ghost its way through the boy’s body, but his eyes didn’t waiver. “I’m sure.”

~~~~~~~~

Russ turned Dave’s face away from his heavy lidded gaze to lick a wide tongued trail up the column of his throat to a spot just behind his ear, and Dave felt another shiver forming deep inside him. He wasn’t too sure what was causing them, not fear… well maybe a spark, but part of it was wantin’, needin’ something. That something had been on his mind more an’ more lately. It was something that he needed to flash through his head when he had Sarah pinned beneath him on her Momma’s couch, eyes scrunched closed, lips pursed, making noises that it seemed to him she must have practised. He never knew if she got off while he pounded away inside her, he just knew that he couldn’t, that her soft, pink vanilla skin, and her scent of candy and cosmetics was somehow wasted on him. It was Jimmy’s face he wanted to see, all sharp edges and angles, the warm, musky scent of his skin that could make Dave hard just with the remembering.

He knew he ought to feel dirty every time he went down on his knees for Jimmy, but it felt real, and just for those few, all too brief moments, he felt alive, like he did right now.

Jimmy’s fingers feathered light touches over his abdomen and up towards his pecs, making patterns he couldn’t see, and making his skin twitch and spark to life in a way he couldn’t control. The most Jimmy had ever touched him before was the touch to a shoulder to guide him to his knees, or hands in his hair that stroked, encouraged, or simply held his head still. Truth was Jimmy didn’t touch anyone much, ‘less he had to.

Russ touched; large, warm, firm touches from calloused fingers that caressed his throat and stroked his hair. Touches that were so different from the soft, bow shaped mouth that came down over his to take first his top and then his bottom lip, teasing them with surprisingly gentle kisses, before convincing them to part with playful licks. When it came the kiss was deep, dark and lingering, a kiss that Dave wasn’t sure he ever wanted to emerge from. He hesitated at first before tentatively kissing back. It was then he felt Russ’ smile, and he opened his eyes to see the older man’s burning blue gaze intent on him.

“You ever kiss a man before?”

He shook his head. “Wanted to.”

“Do you like it?”

“Yeah.”

“You got a sweet mouth on you, quarterback. Jimmy, you wanna taste it?”

Jimmy didn’t say anything, just crawled up onto the couch, handing the half smoked fatty to Russ before slipping one hand inside Dave’s open shirt, quick fingers finding and rolling his nipple, steel blue eyes bright and sharp as they met his. His kiss was harsher than Russ’s, bitter from the weed. Dave lost the duel of tongues, but not before he’d found a taste that was pure Jimmy, part caramel smooth, part burnt sugar.

He’d forgotten Russ until a hand moved over the front of his jeans, rubbing the harsh, too new denim against his over sensitized cock, and he groaned into Jimmy’s mouth. The hand continued its slow massage, moving just enough so that the heel rubbed over his sac, while the other hand came up to work at the buckle on his belt.

The jeans were undone, eased off his hips and down his legs, baring him, and truth was he might have been embarrassed but for the soft touch of work roughened hands that soothed and caressed all at once.

His mind went back to nights at the Gellar house, of Sarah beneath him on her momma’s cream leather couch, hesitating to touch the thing she would willingly allow inside her ‘cuz touchin’ it was dirty, just like him tryin’ to tell her what he wanted made him somehow weird. What was weird was her lying there, tits bared for him like she was makin’ some kind of sacrifice, eyes screwed tight shut, while she let him fuck her, or at least try in the time allotted.

A wide tongue licked over his sac and Dave suddenly focused, eyes wide, to see Jimmy grinning down at him.

“Think you got his attention, maybe you should do it again, to be sure.”

There was a deep chuckle, and then the hands that were resting on his thighs gently urged them to part a little wider, and the tongue was back, tongue and hands, lips and teeth…

~~~~~~~

Jimmy followed Russ’s lead, watchin’ him work on Dave’s cock, doing his part as they brought out the want and the need from the depths of the dark eyes. Russ was good at giving head, keepin’ Dave on the brink ‘till his body was shakin’ and he was calling out cuss words and nonsense between ragged breaths, and Jimmy’s plundering of that all too eager mouth.

 

Russ gave him release part way through a string of, “Oh please, please, oh god please!” This to Jimmy’s mind was kinda fittin’, seeing how the Lord’s name shouldn’t be taken in vain and such.

 

Russ came back up on the couch, a shit-eatin’ grin on his face as he watched Dave pant like he’d just scored a touchdown, sweat beading on the tanned silk of his skin. Jimmy couldn’t resist takin’ a taste. He looked up to find Russ’s eyes on him, then a large hand moved forward, cupping the back of his head. Jimmy took it for askin’, not demanding, and leaned in for the kiss, tastin’ Dave on a tongue that had too much talent to be fought.

 

“I’m thinkin’ we should move this to the other room,” Russ told them as he broke the kiss, “that’s if you want to?” The question was for Dave, but Jimmy wondered if his friend knew jus’ what it was Russ was askin’ him.

 

~~~~~~~~

 

There was a big bed in the other room, and a bottle of Jack to pass between them. Dave took the bottle from Jimmy; naked now, his slim body whipcord hard, and took a taste as he watched Russ peel off his t-shirt. As if the huge bone tattoo on his arm wasn’t enough another decorated his chest, a figure, arms spread in the shape of a cross, flags hanging behind, as he turned slightly Dave saw another even larger cross on his back, skull and crossbones at its center.

 

“Don’t it hurt havin’ those things done?” Dave asked him.

 

Russ chuckled. “Stings a mite,” he admitted, “not so much after a couple of bottles o’ Jack, why, you wantin’ one?”

 

“Thought about it.” The whole football team was thinkin’ about it.

 

“Well you see you go somewhere legit, somewhere clean if you do.”

 

“That what you did?” Jimmy asked him.

 

“No, I was a stupid bastard, didn’t give a shit about nothin’ back then ‘cept bein’ top dog in the kennel.”

 

“Kennel?” Dave asked him.

 

“Prison, it’s where I got most o’ these, thought I was some real hard ass back then, thought all that meant somethin’, but it don’t.”

 

“How many times you been inside?” Jimmy asked him.

 

“Just the once,” he slipped off his jeans, “ain’t no kind of life bein’ locked up, don’t matter how tough you think you are there’s always some other hard bastard tryin’ to knock you down. Your uncle Ben talk about it much?” he asked Jimmy, coming to sit on the edge of the bed, facing the two of them.

 

“No, not much. He’s different though, from how I remember he used to be, Vig reckons it took somethin’ outta him.”

 

Dave wanted to ask another question, wanted to keep his eyes on Russ’s face, stop them from wanderin’, slippin’ down to the uncut cock that wasn’t even fully erect yet, but was still makin’ him wish he was somewhere else, anywhere else.

 

“Ain’t gonna bite you, boy,” Russ told him, leaning in to take the Jack from his unresisting hand.

 

Dave couldn’t stop the blush from heating his face.

 

“Dunno Russ,” Jimmy grinned, “as trouser snakes go I reckon you got some kinda anaconda there.”

 

Russ laughed and handed the bottle back to Dave. “Take a drink, relax.”

 

By the time they finished the bottle Dave was about as relaxed as he’d ever been in his life, couldn’t stop talking, couldn’t wipe the grin off his face that reappeared every time he thought about Jimmy calling Russ’s dick an anaconda.

 

“You still laughin’ at the fuckin’ trouser snake joke?” Jimmy shook his head. “Weren’t that funny.”

 

“Never heard you tell a joke before.”

 

“Never gonna hear me tell one again, way you carry on.”

 

“Hah, least I talk!”

 

“Don’t see no point in talkin’ less you got something to say,” Jimmy ran a finger over Dave’s bottom lip, “better things you could be doin’ with that mouth.”

 

He watched Jimmy run his hand slowly down his body, stroke over the top of his own cock.

 

“Much better things.”

 

Dave wanted to, couldn’t drag his eyes away. He moistened too dry lips. “I… There’s not just… What about Russ?”

 

Russ rubbed a hand up Dave’s back then slowly kneaded his shoulder, “Show me.”

 

~~~~~~~

 

The boy was beautiful, weren’t no other word to describe him, knelt there between bent and parted legs, eyes closed as he took Jimmy’s shaft between slightly swollen lips, letting the other boy’s hands in his hair guide his movements.

 

Russ moved behind Dave, met Jimmy’s eyes with his own as he began to stroke the curved back, soft and slow. There was no tension there, not now; it had been soothed away by talk, soft touches, dirty jokes, hard kisses, and a third of a bottle of Jack. He’d wanted to fuck this boy from the first time he saw him, an' realised just who he was. He couldn’t believe his luck when he’d turned up here today with Jimmy. Hours later he still wanted to fuck him, he just wasn’t so sure of the reason anymore. He continued to stroke and knead, coaxing the boy into position as Jimmy held his focus.

 

There was Vaseline on the nightstand, maybe not the best thing, but he didn’t want to hurt the boy. His own memories of a similar night, of patience and tenderness, were still vivid despite the passing years, so he took his time, keeping him calm, easing the boy’s rings of muscle with slick fingers, letting him grow accustomed to the intrusive feel. Jimmy did his part, making Dave concentrate, fucking his mouth in slow, thick strokes before he came, gasps and hisses spilling out between spasms of pleasure.

 

Russ increased the pace as Jimmy kissed and teased Dave everywhere but where he wanted to be touched. He waited, ‘till the boy was begging the two of them for release before lining up his cock and beginning to push.

 

~~~~~~~~

 

Dave’s head hung down between trembling arms, sweat pouring off him, breathing like a marathon runner.

 

Jimmy stroked softly over his shoulder, moved down beside him so his mouth was almost next to Dave’s ear.

 

“You okay?”

 

There was a nasal grunt and he nodded.

 

“Want Russ to stop?”

 

He shook his head then gasped, “God! Fuck don’t… don’t stop, please!” His arms were shaking so hard they weren’t gonna hold him much longer.

 

A feral hiss from Russ told him they wouldn’t have to.

 

“Bad part’s over,” Jimmy told him, stroking back the sweat damp hair.

 

Russ took him slow, slower than Jimmy would ever have had the patience for, ‘till Dave was crying out for it to be harder and faster, then Jimmy wrapped his hand around the dark red of Dave’s dripping cock and matched Russ, stroke for stroke, until both of them came, crying out in rapid succession. Dave’s arms finally gave out and the three of them collapsed in a tangle of bodies, stayed that way ‘till Russ eventually pulled out, and hauled Dave’s exhausted body up between them. He barely stirred.

 

“You okay with this Jimmy?”

 

Jimmy’d never really shared anythin’ before, never had much he could call his that anyone else would want. He thought about it hard, then figured maybe Russ was the one doin’ most of the sharin’ here, not him.

 

“Reckon I am.”

 

~~~~~~~

 

The next morning they dropped Jimmy off at the Buena Vista Estates with his package for Vig, before Russ headed up to ol’ Bob’s place to take Dave home. The boy had gone quiet, eyes on the window, but Russ was pretty certain they weren’t seein’ nothin’.

 

He turned off the road suddenly, onto the track that skirted the old Emmett place, and pulled up, knowing they wouldn’t be disturbed here.

 

“You okay?” he asked, turning off the engine.

 

“Yeah.” The dark eyes were telegraphing the lie to him.

 

“I don’t want you fuckin’ lyin’ to me!” he snapped. “You havin’ regrets, you tell me now, boy.”

 

“I’m not,” he insisted, “I don’t, it’s… It’s not you,” he sighed.

 

“Jimmy?” It got him a nod. “There ain’t nothing you can say or do for Jimmy that’s gonna change things for him, and he wouldn’t thank you for tryin’. Things ain’t ever gonna be the way you want them to be with him, you know that, right?”

 

Dave’s head dropped, and Russ watched him worry a thread on his jeans before he slowly looked up again. “Yeah, I know. It’s just, everyone’s got this whole deal mapped out for me you know? Athletic scholarship, Sarah…”

 

“I’m guessin’ cheerleader, blonde with perky tits, m’I right?”

 

At least that raised a smile. “Yeah, real perky. She’s okay I guess, in small doses, but it’s like she’s the be all and end all to my folks, ‘specially my Mom, the Gellars are…”

 

“King and Queen of the Country Club, the Golf Club, the PTA...”

 

“You know ‘em?”

 

“Yeah sure, I’m ‘round there for steak and potatoes every other week,” he raised an eyebrow at the boy. “For them, people like me, like Jimmy, we don’t exist, whereas your Mom, she just wishes we didn’t. I don’t know the Gellars but I know about them, know that old man Gellar’s thinkin’ of running for senate, know that he’s been cheatin’ on his wife for the past five years, but ain’t ever gonna leave her ‘cuz it’s her family got all the money.”

 

“How do you know all this?”

 

“Cuz he’s busy fuckin’ your Vice Principal Miss Stone. Next time she’s givin’ you any grief you jus’ point to her nose, like she’s got some big booger hangin’ down, tell her she’s got some kinda white powder under there, that don’t do it jus’ tell her Russ said to say hi.”

 

The boy’s grin was worth waiting for, but it vanished at his next words.

 

“So your Momma’s got a dream an’ she wants you to make it happen for her?”

 

He nodded. “I thought I could do it, right up until a few weeks ago I thought that maybe… but that’s just shit. I can’t be who she wants me to be, an’ it’s not just about Jimmy, I know that now.”

 

“Do you wish it had been Jimmy, not me?”

 

“I’m kinda glad it weren’t Jimmy the first time.”

 

Russ nodded, then asked the question he never dreamt he’d ask when he first recognised the boy yesterday, the question he wasn’t sure he wanted an answer to, “We done then?”

 

The boy frowned, “Is that what you want?”

 

“Don’t mistake me for your Momma, kid, I’m askin’ you what you want, truth now, I’ll know if you’re lyin’.”

 

“I don’t want us to be done.” It was no lie, the boy’s eyes didn’t hide a damn thing from him.

 

“Then we’re not, and you know where I am if you want me, for anythin’, ‘kay?”

 

Dave smiled, “Okay.”

 

Russ leaned over to the boy, pleased when he was met half way. It was a good kiss, deep, honest, and hungry. He was the one to break it, but couldn’t resist brushing a thumb over the slightly swollen lips. “C’mon, let’s get you home.”

 

He could have dropped him off on the road, but instead he swung the truck up the drive to park out front of the house. Couldn’t resist getting out of the truck either.

 

“Ol’ Bob gonna give you grief for stayin’ out all night?”

 

“No, a hard time over the ankle maybe,” he shrugged.

 

Russ grinned. “You gonna throw them fuckin’ boots away?”

 

The boy’s head dipped, coming up with a kinda shy smile, “Was thinkin’ of callin’ ‘em my lucky boots.”

 

He laughed, was still laughing when ol’ Bob slipped out of the door, ambled over slow. “Take care of the ankle, huh?”

 

Dave nodded, made his way over to his Dad. Russ leant against the side of the truck, lit a cigarette while father and son exchanged words, the boy no doubt telling the story they’d prepared, he got a pat on the back before he limped inside.

 

“Wanted to thank you…” Bob said loudly, doing a fair imitation of his own used car ads, as he walked over.

 

Russ took a drag on the cigarette, looked up at him. “Did you now?”

 

It was the closest the two of them had been in quite a while, and Russ took the time to study the man up close. There were a lot of similarities between the boy and his father, though the good life was tellin’ on the older man.

 

The voice dropped. “What are you doing here Russ?”

 

“Brought your boy back, been on a bender with some of them football buddies I reckon, found him in my woods. Lucky you didn’t get him back with an ass full o’ buck-shot, would-a, if the face hadn’t struck me. He looks like you Bob, least the way you used to.”

 

“Russell don’t.”

 

“What, don’t look at him an’ remember?” He raised an eyebrow at the older man. “I was round about his age you know, maybe a year or so younger that summer, or have you forgotten?”

 

“No I haven’t forgotten. I’ve always tried to do right by you Russell, I put regular work your way after…”

 

“Oh yeah, the repo and the debt collecting, how could I forget? Maybe if you spared me a glance once in a while when I come on the lot I might be more fuckin’ grateful, maybe if you could look me in the eyes now, I might just be convinced that you gave me work cuz you gave a shit, an’ not ‘cuz you just want me to keep my fuckin’ mouth shut!”

 

“Is that what you think?” The eyes met his, but all Russ saw was the used car salesman.

 

“Fuck you,” he laughed suddenly, “never did get that privilege did I Bob?”

 

“If you’ve touched my son…”

 

“Touched him? You mean fucked him, made him love me so much that he thinks the sun rises and sets on me?” It was both more and less than he had wanted to say. “Forgettin’ something ain’t you, your boy’s got himself a girl so he tells me, a Gellar no less. That’s quite a coup for someone whose Daddy hails from the wrong side of the tracks, but then you married above yourself too, ain’t that right ol’ Bob? You reckon Dave’s set to follow in your footsteps, or is he maybe in love?”

 

“Is that was this is about Russell, is it blackmail?”

 

He shook his head. “You don’t think a whole lot of me, do you Bob? There was a time when that might have bothered, but not any more.” He took a last drag on his cigarette then ground it out beneath the heel of his boot before opening the door of his truck, and climbing inside.

 

“Don’t forget to give my love to the missus now,” he told Bob through the window. He drove off without a backward glance, turnin’ the radio on and up, truth was, he felt like singing.

 

The End.


End file.
